Dead Boy's Poem
by Sophia Prester
Summary: On his way to a fateful showdown, Mamoru wonders what would have happened had things worked out differently.


Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon or any associated characters. I   
don't own the song "Dead Boy's Poem," either. That belongs to the   
group Nightwish.  
  
Author's notes are at the end.  
  
  
  
Dead Boy's Poem  
  
by Sophia Prester  
  
  
  
The injury wasn't fatal. He supposed he should be thankful for   
small mercies, but the wound hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Normally, he   
healed quickly, but for some reason, his body wasn't cooperating this   
time.  
  
(He pictured the ice-dagger punching through the trapezius,   
then being deflected by the scapula. There were times when he didn't   
know quite so much about the human anatomy.)  
  
Mamoru got up from his chair, breath hissing sharply through   
his teeth as the wound pulled open again. He felt the blood soaking   
through his shirt, but there wasn't a damned thing he could do about   
it--there was no way he could twist his good arm behind him to   
bandage the seeping cut.  
  
He wouldn't be heading to the emergency room, though. No time.   
No point. No hope.  
  
Pulling on his old green jacket took longer than he thought.   
Funny how many simple actions required the use of both arms. How many   
other simple but important things had he never noticed before?  
  
Once the jacket was on, he realized it would be uncomfortably   
warm, but at least it would mask his wound long enough for him to get   
to the Starlight Tower without raising any awkward questions.   
Besides, this wasn't exactly the kind of date where you spent hours   
agonizing over what to wear.  
  
This was the end for him, he knew deep down. The eleven years   
of his life that he could remember had been nothing but preparation   
for this day.  
  
****  
  
Born from silence, silence full of it  
  
****  
  
*His* life? He laughed--a short bark of laughter that sent pain   
rocketing through his shoulder. No, this life had never been *his*.   
Chiba Mamoru was nothing more than a place-holder, coming to life in   
a hospital ward with no memory, not even the knowledge of his own   
name. All he had was the roaring silence in his brain.  
  
He made friends, he went to class, he made vague noises about   
going to medical school, but it was no more than a clanging of   
cymbals and ringing of bells to distract himself from the yawning   
void that was his inmost self.  
  
****  
  
A perfect concert my best friend  
So much to live for, so much to die for  
  
****  
  
In the past few months, however, something essential had   
changed. The silence in his soul was no longer silent.   
  
A strange and familiar melody swelled up from out of his silent   
past, tantalizing him with the promise of a life that *meant*   
something, the promise of a life where he would love and be loved in   
return. Along with that melody came the first glimpse of *her*.  
  
At first, the memories were little more than dreams that faded   
with the morning light, leaving only the haunting melody that   
lingered on the edge of hearing and a sense of unbearable loss.   
  
Then, the memories would flick at his vision during those   
frightening (and increasingly frequent) times when he would wake up   
in a different part of the city from where he had been just seconds   
before. When he looked at his watch he would find that those seconds   
had in fact been hours.   
  
The melody carried over from the blackouts, and somehow this   
helped to allay the fear. It did not stop him from asking himself   
where he had been, or why his body sometimes ached as if he had just   
gone ten rounds in the ring with a champion boxer.  
  
Now he finally knew what was happening. He could remember what   
happened during those strange times. The fights. The monsters. Sailor   
Moon.   
  
Tuxedo Kamen was coming to life. Chiba Mamoru was fading away.   
Or were they simply becoming one and the same? He didn't know.  
  
All he knew was that he was at once dying and being born, and   
that he had to find the rainbow crystals. Once he did, he knew that   
everything would make sense.  
  
Now, as he left his apartment to go answer Zoisite's challenge,   
he hung onto the ancient melody as if it were a life-line. He cast   
one last glance at the place where he'd lived for the past three   
years. There was a good chance he'd never see it again.  
  
He wondered why this thought didn't make him more sad than it   
did.  
  
****  
  
If only my heart had a home  
  
****  
  
It was probably because the apartment wasn't really a 'home'--  
whatever that was.  
  
He knew that he'd had a mother and father at one point. He   
existed, and therefore there had to be both a male and a female   
parent, right?   
  
He also had proof of their existence in the form of a wallet-  
sized photo that the paramedics had pulled from the wreckage.   
Sometimes he looked at the picture and wondered who those people   
were. When he was younger, he would make up stories about them and   
try to imagine who he was and what his life was like before he had   
woken up in the hospital.  
  
When he thought about them, he felt sorrow and regret, but only   
at the absence of memory. He mourned--not for them--but for what his   
life could have been had he grown up with a normal family, in a   
normal home.  
  
If he ever did find 'the right girl', get married, settle down,   
and have a family, how would he know what to do? No one had ever told   
him the rules.  
  
Maybe it was best that things had worked out as they had.  
  
****  
  
Sing what you can't say  
Forget what you can't play  
Hasten to drown into beautiful eyes  
Walk within my poetry, this dying music  
My love letter to nobody  
  
****  
  
He locked his apartment door, reminding himself that he *might*   
be coming back, and if he did, he'd like his laptop, stereo, and   
television to be there when he returned.   
  
As he waited for the elevator, he listened to the tune playing   
over and over in his head. It was a nice distraction from the pain in   
his shoulder. The tune had a lilting quality to it that would have   
tempted him to sing along if he knew the words. Did the tune even   
*have* words? He didn't know. Maybe he had known them, once upon a   
time.  
  
Again and again, he saw the dream woman looking over her   
shoulder at him. The light that surrounded her made her face seem   
dark by comparison, but nothing could dim the love and longing in her   
eyes. He wanted to run to her, to hold her and tell her that   
everything would be all right, but in his dreams he could not move.  
  
When he woke, there was nothing left of her but the fading   
strains of an ancient melody.  
  
He refused to believe that he had fallen in love with someone   
who did not even exist. Was his other self running around playing   
hero for the sake of a delusion? Was he so desperate for someone to   
love that he had created this woman in his own brain?  
  
It didn't bear thinking about.  
  
****  
  
Never sigh for better world  
It's already composed, played and told  
Every thought the music I write  
Everything a wish for the night  
  
****  
  
The crystals sat heavy in his pocket.   
  
It was a comfort. They were real, and so the woman who wanted   
him to gather them must also be real, right?  
  
If he thought about the dream woman too much, he started to   
remember things that he would rather not. He thought about the couple   
in Yumemi's paintings, of the handsome man handing the beautiful   
woman a locket, a locket that he knew played the song that carried   
him through his days. The couple in that painting were from another   
time, and if they'd had a 'happily ever after', the ever after had   
ended a long time ago.   
  
He cradled his injured arm to his chest. It didn't hurt quite   
so much if he could keep the weight of his arm from pulling on the   
injured muscles. As he walked along, he suddenly realized that the   
couple had *not* had a happy ending.   
  
So why had he been living each day from dream to dream, willing   
to throw away the life he had built for a glimpse of something that   
never was and may never be?  
  
****  
  
Wrote for the eclipse, wrote for the virgin  
Died for the beauty the one in the garden  
Created a kingdom, reached for the wisdom  
Failed in becoming a god  
  
****  
  
As if to chide himself for his doubts, the memory of those   
haunting eyes nearly overcame him and blacked out the world around   
him. Even though he didn't know why, he knew that *she* was his   
reason for being more than any other half-baked dream he might have   
put together over the past decade.  
  
It all led back to *her*, in the end. Tuxedo Kamen and Sailor   
Senshi and dreams of moonlight and dancing. Crystals and roses and   
lockets and a haunting, never-ending melody. Dresses of gold and   
white, and armor of black and silver. Grief and joy and mourning and   
rejoicing. Eyes full of love and a promise of happily ever after that   
was dashed to pieces on a moonlit evening.  
  
Something had happened, in that world of dreams, and he had   
failed. He knew somehow that the price of that failure was beyond   
imagining.  
  
If he won now, he knew he would have everything he ever wanted   
and more besides. If he lost...  
  
He walked down the street, his eyes fixed on the Tower as the   
pain in his shoulder flared up once again. Maybe he should just   
forget about this. There was no way he could fight Zoisite in this   
condition and hope to win. What would happen if he gave up? What   
would he lose if he turned his back on these strange dreams and this   
phantom princess? Why couldn't he just go back to being Chiba Mamoru,   
get his medical degree, and live an ordinary life?  
  
He had lost one life for this woman already, and look what had   
come of that. Why should he be so quick to give up another?  
  
What did he have to lose?  
  
Everything, he told himself. Absolutely everything.  
  
****  
  
Never sigh for better world  
It's already composed, played and told  
Every thought the music I write  
Everything a wish for the night  
  
****  
  
Who are you? he thought towards the mysterious woman...  
  
angel...  
  
fairy...  
  
princess...  
  
goddess...  
  
sorceress...  
  
...he had never met, but whose image led him on.  
  
Love of his life, light of his heart, reason for his very   
being.  
  
He could never abandon her but still, he wished...  
  
If only things could be different. If only he could walk down   
the street and see her walking down the sidewalk, resplendent in tee   
shirt and jeans, crowned with pink plastic barrettes.  
  
What would it be like if they could meet and date like two   
ordinary people? He imagined the two of them lounging in his   
apartment. He'd be studying for entrance exams and she would be doing   
something deliciously ordinary--writing in a diary, reading a   
magazine, struggling over math homework--something like that.  
  
Too bad for him that fate seemed to have something much   
different in mind for him.  
  
At the next intersection, he was caught by the Don't Walk sign.   
He resented the delay, but at the same time was grateful for the   
chance to rest for a minute or two.  
  
How foolish of him to be dreaming of an ordinary life. Ordinary   
lives were something that belonged to real people, not to a man with   
an empty soul and a woman who lived only in dreams.  
  
****  
  
"If you read this line, remember not the hand that wrote it  
Remember only the verse, songmaker's cry, the one without tears  
For I've given this its strength   
and it has become my only strength.  
Comforting home, mother's lap, chance for immortality  
Where being wanted became a thrill I never knew  
The sweet piano writing down my life"  
  
****  
  
Once upon a time he used to write stories about having a mother   
and a father. Nothing much happened in these stories. Days started   
and days ended in perfect bliss. Sometimes there was even a puppy.   
His classmates' stories were about dragons and heroes and shiny   
robots and so on.   
  
According to his psychology texts, it was healthy for a child   
to have a rich fantasy life. At least he had been normal in that   
respect.   
  
The melody played ever on in his mind, letting him know that   
yes, there was something wonderful waiting for him. At the moment, it   
was the only thing that was keeping him walking towards the Tower.  
  
****  
  
"Teach me passion for I fear it's gone  
Show me love, hold the lorn  
So much more I wanted to give to the ones who love me  
  
****  
  
What *had* he done with his life? What had he done that anyone   
would remember? He knew that Motoki and Rei at least would miss him--  
he wasn't *that* far gone into self-pity, he thought, chuckling   
grimly. If anything, he should probably feel more guilty than he did   
for leaving them without explanation like this.  
  
Mamoru never worried about whether or not his friends truly   
loved him. It was more often the case that he felt guilty for not   
feeling more strongly for them than he did, for not being a better   
friend.  
  
Poor Rei. He wondered if she really liked him, or if she simply   
liked the idea of having a boyfriend. He wouldn't be too surprised if   
it was the latter. For some reason, he felt a sudden burst of   
affection at the idea. Rei was certainly something else. Chances were   
that one of the things she liked best about him was how much Usagi   
seemed to hate him.   
  
Usagi. The memory of her crazy laugh and her non-stop chatter   
stopped him for a moment. She could be so unbelievably aggravating,   
and yet...  
  
He wished he could have had time to get to know more of that   
little odango-atama than just the teasing and bickering. Even though   
she annoyed him beyond all reason, there was something else there,   
something he wanted to look at more closely.   
  
****  
  
I'm sorry  
Time will tell (this bitter farewell)  
I live no more to shame nor me nor you  
  
****  
  
What would have happened if he had spoken to her civilly for a   
change? Probably nothing, but he wished he had done something so she   
wouldn't remember him as the jerk who made fun of her hair or mocked   
her dreams.  
  
It was hard not to mock. Her dreams were of a vibrant, ever   
changing future. His were only of a dead, distant past. No wonder   
they struck each other like flint and steel whenever they met.  
  
She would grow into a beautiful woman. Nothing like his   
princess, he hastily corrected himself, but she'd be something   
special someday.  
  
He wondered if he'd ever have a chance to see her again.  
  
The light finally changed. He took a deep breath and walked on   
towards the tower. It was only a block or two away, and it now loomed   
up ridiculously large over the three and four story buildings   
surrounding him. He could almost imagine it toppling forwards to   
crush him. Up in that tower were the answers to all the questions he   
had ever asked about himself.  
  
He might even learn more about his princess.  
  
Still, he wished...  
  
He wished...   
  
****  
  
And you... I wish I didn't feel for you anymore..."  
  
****  
  
Sometimes, he wished that he had never had these dreams.  
  
What hope was there for him, who was so foolishly in love with   
a ghost?   
  
He had forgotten so many things. It would have been a mercy if   
he had been allowed to forget *her*.  
  
****  
  
A lonely soul... An ocean soul...  
  
****  
  
A slap on the back and a stab of pain knocked him right out of   
his reverie.  
  
He turned around and there she was. Odango-atama. She'd slapped   
him on the back right were the fake Sailor Moon had stabbed him.  
  
She told him that he didn't look so well. Normally, he would   
have made some kind of retort about *her* looks, but now, all he   
could do was stare.  
  
Why had he never allowed himself just to look at her before?  
  
His princess may have been real, but this girl was *alive*.   
  
She looked so puzzled, but there was no way he could explain   
and no way should could understand. She was brimful of love, and   
life, and youth, and promise, and he knew that if he let himself, he   
could drown in her.  
  
If only he could.  
  
He smiled at her and told her what he felt, in the only way he   
could.  
  
"You're always so energetic."  
  
I'm sorry.  
  
"Stay that way forever."  
  
Goodbye.  
  
  
# # #  
  
  
Author's notes: Yes, I am still working on "Empire of the Sun." This   
was written for the Lyric Wheel challenge on the SMRFF mailing list.   
This means that this song was not one that I chose, but one that was   
assigned to me. The challenge was to think of a fic that went with   
the lyrics.  
  
This also happens to be my first attempt at a songfic, and I'm not   
sure if the approach I took to fitting lyric to story works or not. I   
thought it would be fun to tweak the idea of the typical Usa/Mamo or   
Serenity/Endymion relationship but looking at it as a Serenity/Mamoru   
dynamic. Anyhow, please let me know what you think.  
  
Obviously this fic takes place during the ep. where Mamoru goes to   
confront Zoisite over the rainbow crystals. 


End file.
